Something more. Something like lo—
“Feels like what?”
Her heart skittered for several quick beats. Perhaps she’d been blind all along to what was right in front of her, thinking she needed to escape society to find love. If he wanted to pursue something with her after they left Claremont Abbey, if he would stay in Britain and be the husband she desired, then perhaps she’d find her happy ending after all.
Her hands twisted in her skirts as she attempted to calm her suddenly quick breathing. “I was thinking, what if—what if we were to… continue this, whatever is between us, after the party ends?” Her insides squirmed as he looked taken aback, then leaned closer.
“I’d like tha’. Christ, would I like tha’.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Can ye wait for me to return from the Americas?”
Her stomach bottomed out. “How long would that be?”
“I expect to be back ev’ry year or so while the build is happening.”
“Everyyear?” When had her voice become so shrill? “How many years will it take?”
He shrugged, and she watched the man she’d conspired with, who had pleasured her with exquisite care and defended her honor, the man who only seemed to emerge for her, transform into the cold, myopic businessman.
The loss was palpable.
“Several years, I’d think. The Suez took a decade, and I would expect the same from Panama, given the conditions.”
When she opened her mouth to speak, she was horrified to find that her throat was tight, tears pushing to the surface.No, she would not shed any more tears over a man, even if he was one of the most surprising and genuine men she’d ever known.
She could explain to her family why she wouldn’t marry in society, or ask her sisters to join them in America. Anything but face the unexpected disappointment that clutched at her insides.
Even if she wanted Callum to be her husband, even if heagreedto it, he would disappear from her life like every man before him. She’d be alone, bereft, and she wouldknowwhat she was missing. Would mourn him every day until he returned, if he did at all.
She’d rather be a spinster than be married in name only.
“Violet.” He leaned closer, his brows drawing together. “What are ye thinking?”
“I’m thinking,” she managed, laboring to press her lips into a smile, “that I’m going to ride a bicycle.”
She stomped through the grass, the blades whipping at her boots and skirt as Callum called after her, but she ignored him, ignored everything until she reached a bewildered-looking footman and a pile of metal.
“I’d like to try,” she said, holding her hand out.
Bridget was by her side in an instant, followed by a breathless Callum.
“It’s no’ safe,” he growled, but Bridget shushed him.
“It’s perfectly safe. I gave all the ladies trousers to wear beneath their skirts so they can ride astride.”
With a smug nod, Violet lifted her skirt to reveal the breeches that clung to her calves. Callum’s eyes widened, although she couldn’t tell if it was from lust or surprise.
Before she could decide, there was a bicycle beside her, and Bridget was helping to guide her leg over the side. “The most troublesome part is starting,” her hostess said as she helped the footman hold her in place. “But if you pedal quickly, you’ll be fine.”
Adrenaline coursed through her veins, pushing out the illogical disappointment that Callum wouldn’t be ready to toss aside his plans for her. Didn’t she know better by now that no man would find her important enough to sacrifice something of themselves to be with her?
“I’m ready,” she croaked, nodding at Bridget.
“Wait,” Callum barked, “ye didnae tell her how to—”
His last word was lost to her shriek as the footman shoved the bicycle into motion; she wobbled almost immediately before she heard Bridget cry, “Pedal, Violet!” Her legs pumped, and the tremor ceased as she picked up speed. A wild laugh fell from her lips, and she was flying, the wind tugging her hat off her head.
How glorious to be free, to fly, even if gravity tethered her to the ground. As inconsequential as it was, she’d heard the doubts lobbed at her and persevered. Perhaps she’d buy one of these for herself once she was ruined. She’d ride into town to do her shopping or visit her neighbors, her comings and goings neverencumbered by anyone else. When she reached the end of the field, she turned the handlebars as she’d see the men do, and released a delighted squeal when the contraption responded, bringing her around toward Callum once more.
Her heart ached as she saw him, his hands planted on his hips and head held high. His expression was in shadow, as the sunlight reflected off the lake behind him and cast him in silhouette. But she could imagine he was proud of her, that something about her success made him successful as well, that they could share this moment—
